


lay all your love on me

by girlmarauders



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dubious Consent, Eggpreg, M/M, Other, Oviposition, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 20:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: Connor knows what happens during the offseason.





	lay all your love on me

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the sinbin prompt [here](https://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3790.html?thread=5218254#cmt5218254) : "the captains of the teams that don't make the playoffs have to incubate eggs during the off season."
> 
> spoilery content warnings: dubious consent in the sense that Connor doesn't particularly _want_ to incubate eggs, but he's also not super opposed and enjoys it when it happens.

Another year without the playoffs, and Connor knew he didn’t have a lot of time before it would come over him. He didn’t want to be in Edmonton, reminders of the season everywhere, people taking pictures of him in the mall. He met with the trainers to talk about his knee, and then got on a plane back to Toronto. He’d been ignoring Dylan’s texts since they’d been mathematically eliminated, but time was running out.

He got home, dropped his suitcase in the living room, and started poking through his fridge where the delivery service had left food. He texted Dylan _i’m home now you can come over if you want it’ll be tonight_ and then put his phone on silent and left it in the other room. He hated thinking about it before it happened. During the season it seemed like tempting fate, to talk about what would happen if the off-season came early, and at all other times it was just...embarrassing. Personal. Connor had so little now that was truly private.

An hour and a half later, plenty of time for Dylan to drive, his buzzer rang, and he leaned on the button to let Dylan up, and then went and turned on the tv. He didn’t want to linger by the door like a weirdo, he hadn’t been waiting for Dylan, he’d been hanging out like normal. He sat on the sofa, and stuck his hands in his pockets so he couldn’t move them around nervously. His front door opened, and closed, and then a few minutes later Dylan appeared in the doorway, holding a shopping bag.

“Hey,” Connor said, after a second's silence.

“Hey,” Dylan said. “Did I miss it? Has it happened yet?”

Connor blushed hotly, which was embarrassing. The whole thing was stupid and embarrassing and he hated that he blushed every time Dylan mentioned it.

“No!” he said, squirming on the sofa to sit up. “I told you it'll be tonight.”

“Oh,” Dylan said, and then put the bag on Connor's coffee table. “I got you some food. Uh, for later.”

“Thanks,” Connor said.

“Is that basketball?” Dylan said, and Connor looked up at the tv.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “I didn't want to put the hockey on.”

“That’s cool,” Dylan said, and shrugged. “Can I watch with you?”

Connor jammed his hands further into his hoodie pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, slouching down until the collar of his hood touched his nose. Dylan sar next to him, a little distance between them, and Connor felt silly, and then flopped over so he was leaning on Dylan, and Dyl had to put an arm around him. They watched a quarter in silence, and then Connor sighed.

“Thanks for coming over. Sorry for being weird,” he said. He didn’t turn his head so he didn’t have to look at Dylan. Saying sorry was hard enough. Dylan didn’t move.

“Anytime man,” he said, clearly giving Connor permission to forget about it. Great. They could never talk about it, which was all that Connor wanted. They watched the rest of the basketball game, and then Dylan took the remote and they watched some formula one. Neither of them followed it at all, but it was easy to watch, and slowly Connor felt himself drifting off. Dylan's arm around him was warm, and the steady sound of him breathing, over the rhythm of the cars on the tv, was enough to send him dozing.

He must have fallen asleep because it only felt like a few minutes later when Dylan shook him gently but when Connor opened his eyes it was dark, and the tv was off.

“Davo,” Dylan said gently. “Hey it's late, we should sleep.”

Connor had felt sleepy and relaxed, but as soon as he thought about sleeping his stomach clenched nervously. He couldn't do anything about it, but he was still nervous. Dylan obviously caught his mood.

“Hey, you'll be fine,” he said, helping Connor stand and letting him lean on him. “You're an old pro at this now. And I'll be here the whole time.”

Connor was tired, and Dylan's voice was reassuring. When they got to Connor's bedroom, he leaned on Dylan's shoulder while he undressed with one hand, and then lay down and watched Dylan strip to his boxers, his eyes falling closed between breaths. Dylan had put on muscle since Connor had last seen him in person, and he thought maybe he should comment on it. Would that be weird? Connor didn't know, and he was too tired to puzzle through it.

Dylan climbed into bed with him, and slowly maneuvered Connor to turn over on his back. Connor sighed once. Soon it would be over, and he could go back to having a normal summer.

It always came at night, when you were asleep. Connor had tried staying awake, but it didn't matter how much coffee he drank, he always fell asleep eventually, and then the dream would come. Dylan had been there the first time, Connor's first year as Captain, and had freaked out while Connor thrashed and moaned in his sleep. You couldn't stop yourself from sleeping, and you also couldn't wake up during it. Dylan had tried to wake him up, but when the dream had you, there was nothing you could do. Connor had never told Dylan, or anyone else he had carefully, discreetly discussed it with, but he liked the dream. It didn't hurt, and it wasn't scary. It felt good.

He couldn't remember all of it, but he never saw the thing. It wasn't a person. It was more like something huge and dark, and tentacled, but Connor was never scared of it. In the dream, he knew he was safe, that he was special. In the real world, that was embarrassing to think about, but in the dream, he liked it. One of the tentacles stroked his legs gently, helping him spread them apart, until he was held open, on display. Another tentacle stroked across his pecs, his stomach, and then wrapped around his dick. He was already hard, but the slick, soft pressure made him groan and arch his back. The tentacle that pressed at his hole was slick, and wet, and the tip slid in easily, thinner even then a finger, and then growing wider and thicker, until it was a stretch. He could feel every movement his body made, every time his hole clenched and then released, letting the tentacle go deeper. Slowly, it worked its way into him, until he was stretched and full, and gasping with the weight of it, and the tightness around his cock. He groaned, and the tentacle inside him rippled. He’d done this before, and knew what was coming, but it was still a surprise when he felt the tentacle expand, and then the thick pressure of the first egg. It pushed against him, the bluntness of it making Connor pant desperately, trying to catch his breath. The first was always the hardest, and then the tentacle rippled again, pushing the egg into him, and in the dream he screamed at the pleasure and pain he couldn't unmingle. At the widest point, he was stretched as far as he could go, held open, gasping, thighs straining, and then it sunk an inch deeper and his body pulled it in, deep inside him, a heavy weight in his gut.

Each egg was like that, the pressure, the stretch, the deep fullness. It built and built, the feeling of fullness growing more and more with each egg. The tentacle hadn't stopped stroking him, and when the pressure has built too far, he came, splattering come all over his abs, and clenching down on the egg pushing inside him. He felt like he was drifting, held up only by the tentacle that filled him up, and the overwhelming pleasure that never ended.

The last egg settled inside him, heavily pressing against the others, and Connor moaned low and long as the tentacle slowly withdrew. When it released him, there was a heavy, satisfying weight in his gut, and a shocky kind of ache in his ass, like he’d been used to the fullest. He felt good all over, and he wanted to keep feeling it, but the dream was fading now, the tentacles pulling back from him, releasing his legs, and between one breath and the next he blinked and he was listening to Dylan’s light snoring beside him.

“Dyl,” he said quietly, turning his head but not his body. “Dyl.”

Dylan snorted, and then jerked, waking up suddenly.

“Huh?” he said, blinking, and then shook his head. “Has it happened?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, and resettled his body on the bed, pushing himself up to lean on my pillows. He felt heavier than usual, like his centre of gravity had moved downward, and it had, because above his hips his gut curved upwards slightly, and when he put a hand there the skin was taut, and the resistance was hard.

“Hey,” Dylan said, scooting over on the bed until he could put a hand on top of Connor’s. “Can I do anything?”

Connor shook his head. He was still settling into the new feeling, the changes his body had already made.

“Not yet,” he said, both of them staying quiet in the dark of Connor’s bedroom. “Tomorrow…” he trailed off. Dylan smiled, his face cast in shadow.

“Yeah, I know,” he said knowingly. Dylan had been with Connor through the the beginning of every off-season. He knew what was going to happen. “Go to sleep,” Dylan said, and Connor nodded, blinking heavily. Everything felt heavy and slow, his body settling, the eggs heavy in his gut. Everything would feel more insistent tomorrow, but right now he just felt sleepy, with Dylan’s warm body against him. He blinked a couple of times, watching Dylan close his eyes, and then fell asleep as well, and did not dream of anything he could remember.

He woke up a few hours later, sunshine peeking through his bedroom curtains. They’d both moved in their sleep, and Dylan was turned away from him, his knees tucked up. Connor looked at the curve of his ass. He’d woken up quickly, and he felt warm and hungry, like he’d woken up from an active dream, breathing quickly. When he put a hand on his stomach, he could feel where it had grown in the night. It wasn’t just a soft rise, like a big dinner, anymore, but a clear round belly, curved under his hand. If he pressed down, he could feel the shape of the eggs, and the increased pressure as they rolled against each other and pushed against his insides. He moaned at the feeling, and Dylan moved, and then rolled over. He was still waking up, but now Connor could see his bare chest, and run his hands over Dylan’s abs and then his nipples. He needed to do something with his hands, he felt so fidgety, and increasingly desperate for something he couldn’t name. The first day was always like this, full of energy and need. Dylan hissed when Connor pinched one of his nipples, and then tipped his head up so they could kiss.

“You need it huh?” Dylan said, his voice a little rough from sleep. Connor nodded. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to fuck. Dylan rolled over to fish the lube out of the bedside drawer and then pressed it into Connor’s hand. He took a moment, too long in Connor’s opinion, to pull off his shorts and turn over onto his back, lifting his leg up so Connor could see his hole. He felt wild. He wanted to sink into Dylan’s body, fuck him hard until everyone knew Dylan was his.

Dylan grunted heavily when Connor leaned his whole body weight on top of him so they could kiss.

“Man, Davo, you’re heavy,” he said breathlessly, between kisses, and Connor hummed, and then tweaked one of Dylan’s nipples in retaliation. He wanted Dylan to focus.

He was too far gone, deep into the intense possessive, aroused feelings that came with incubating, to feel bad for how far he pushed getting Dylan ready. He fucked Dylan with two fingers, and then with three, crooked inside him and stretching his rim until Dylan had his hands braced on the headboard, pushing back to fuck Connor’s fingers deeper into him, and cursing Connor over and over again for being a teasing son of a bitch.

When he pushed into Dylan, it felt amazing, tight and warm, and every time he thrust he could feel the eggs inside him shift and move, making every movement more intense. Dylan was groaning, and jerking himself off, and Connor growled and shoved his hand away so he could do it, jerking him hard and quickly. The eggs moved, rolling against each other, and he pushed deep into Dylan and watch him come, his come splattering acros his stomach and chest. It felt so good, Dylan’s hole clenching around his cock, the fullness of the eggs, and he couldn’t even say words, he was wild with it, and then he grunted, the feeling of the fullness washing over him, and came inside Dylan, filling him up.

For a long moment, they both just held onto each other and panted, trying to catch their breath. Connor felt a little bit of his senses coming back, and he rolled onto his back.

“Ooof,” he said, as his body settled, and put his hand on his stomach. The eggs would get even bigger today, and they were already pretty big. Dylan rolled over, and his hand immediately went to Connor's stomach. Dylan rubbed his stomach, and Connor hummed happily. It felt good, Dylan's hand on his stretched stomach, pressing gently.

“You more with me now?” Dylan said, and Connor blinked slowly, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry.”

Dylan shrugged.

“No worries,” he said. “I know what's up.”

Dylan had been there first year, when Connor had thrashed in his sleep and then woken up in his childhood bedroom with a huge curving stomach, desperate with need. On unspoken agreement, Dylan had been there every year that followed, their mutual combined empty post-seasons spent together, Connor incubating and Dylan helping with the results. Dylan rubbed his hand across Connor's stomach, and Connor rolled his head to kiss Dylan's neck, his clavicle. The skin of his stomach was always warm, and Dylan's hand felt good.

“You want food?” Dylan asked, and Connor kissed him again, and then nodded.

“Yeah I'm hungry,” he said, and tangled his fingers with Dylan's, sweeping over and over again over the curve of Connor's stomach.

“C'mon, you can stay in bed later,” Dylan said, tugging at his arm, the implication being later in the week he'd be too big to get out of bed, and Dylan would have to bring him food. Connor let Dylan pull him up into sitting, and then had to pause for a second, as everything resettled. Every time the eggs moved, shivers went up his whole body, up his spine and along his shoulders.

“God,” he said, and then slowly pushed himself off the bed to standing. The visual was strange every time, the huge stomach that sat low in his hips, and the sweet intensity of the eggs inside him. Dylan hovered nearby. “I'm fine,” he said to him. Dylan shrugged.

“I know,” he said. “I just get pretty...protective.”

Connor followed Dylan to the kitchen, one hand on his stomach for balance, looking at Dylan's bare shoulders. He mouthed to himself, just once, the word _protective._

All of Connor's hormones and instincts went absolutely haywire when he was incubating. But Dylan stayed pretty much the same, easy-going, patient about all of Connor's stuff, so there was no convenient excuse for him being protective. The only reason could be he really felt that way. Connor felt like he'd only read half a story, and was now being quizzed about it.

Dylan made oatmeal, and eggs, and heaped salmon on top of toast. Connor started eating, and then didn't stop. It felt like his rookie year, when all he did was eat and eat and still fall short of the calorie number, like he'd be hungry forever. Dylan made him eat an apple, and a banana, and then made him a protein shake to drink while he ate a second helping of toast. It was only when he drained the last drop of the shake, and then hiccuped, that he finally started to feel like he wasn't hungry anymore. He felt full all the way through, from food, and the fullness of the eggs.

Dylan helped him to the sofa, and Connor lay with his head in Dylan's lap through a game of basketball, groaning as he digested breakfast. It was too slow to see directly, but he knew from experience that his stomach was slowly expanding as the eggs grew. He'd get bigger every day, until the eggs were ready. Dylan pet his hair, neither of them really paying any attention to the tv, and then Connor turned his face into Dylan's thigh and groaned at the feeling of the eggs rolling inside him, moving as his stomach grew. It wasn't a bad feeling, it was just intense, something inside him that hadn't been there before, and he stretched, pointing his toes, groaning again, leaning into the sensation. Dylan tightened his fingers in Connor's hair.

“You okay?” Dylan asked, and Connor nodded, rolling his head over Dylan's thigh.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his hands pressing down on his stomach, feeling the resistance of the eggs pushing back against him, and the scratch of Dylan's fingertips at his scalp. “Feels good,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” Dylan asked. “You need to go again?”

Connor just hummed. He feel warm and full. It wasn’t the same desperate need as the morning, but he was comfy, and felt good. He turned his head further into Dylan’s thigh, rubbing his nose back and forth across the scratchy fabric. He could feel the pattern of the couch fabric on his skin. He didn't usually wear a shirt at home, and none of them fit around this time. He was just in an old pair of basketball shorts, and he rubbed his bare feet together, enjoying the sensation of skin touching skin.

“Dylan,” he said, raising his head, and Dylan leaned down to kiss him. His mouth was so soft, his lips so good against Connor’s, and Connor opened his mouth and let Dylan push his tongue into his mouth, moaning around it. It felt so good, letting Dylan move him around, take control. “Please,” he said, and Dylan breathed in deeply, and then kissed him again.

“It’s okay Davo,” he said quietly, sitting back for a moment to pull his t-shirt off. “I’ve got you. I’ll look after you.”

Connor wriggled, and then tucked his fingers into his shorts and pulled them off, kicking them off the side of the sofa. Dylan looked at him for a moment, and Connor was too hazy to know what his expression meant, just that he was being looked at, and he wanted Dylan to stop looking and start touching.

“Dylan,” he whined, stretching. Dylan inhaled.

“Fuck, Connor,” he said, and went to his knees by Connor’s side. He ran one of his hands over Connor’s stomach, slow and light over the long curve of it, and then finally, finally, wrapped his hand around Connor’s dick. He was pretty hard and turned on already, and Dylan's touch felt like it arced up his spine, racing down his nerve endings. Dylan rubbed his thumb across the head of his cock, playing with the slit, and Connor squirmed, groaning. God, that felt so good. His dick was leaking, and Dylan spread it up his dick, until his hand could move easier and he could jack Connor in a constant rhythm.

The sofa wasn't the best for this, Connor couldn't move much, just lie there and take it, watching Dylan's slightly slack-jawed expression as he jacked Connor's dick with one hand, and rubbed his stomach with the other, his hand moving all over Connor's chest.

Connor wanted more, this felt good but a nameless ache had opened up inside him, he wanted to be so filled up he couldn't move. He groaned, and spread his legs as much as he could manage.

“Dyl, please,” he said, trying to arch his back but not getting very far. He was so heavy now. He lifted one leg as far he could, and lay his calf on the back of the sofa. “Will you finger me, please?”

Dylan nodded quickly, his hand on Connor's dick slowing, and then stopping.

“Yeah, babe, I've got you,” he said, and Connor moaned and twitched as Dylan played with the head of his dick. He left his hand on Connor's stomach, pushing gently so they could both feel the resistance of his taut belly, and he licked two of his fingers, helping Connor move one of his legs over Dylan's shoulder until he was held open, legs splayed wide over the sofa. Connor wanted to beg again, but then Dylan rubbed two fingers against his hole, where he was loose and wet and open. There was hardly any resistance, just Connor's body letting Dylan push inside, making wet noises against the slick that had been left inside him.

“Fuck,” Dylan said, and scissored his fingers. Connor whined, clenching his teeth. Dylan's fingers felt good, but not enough. He wanted to take more, be better for Dylan. “You want more babe? Yeah?” Dylan said, and Connor nodded quickly, watching Dylan through half-lidded eyes, and then groaned when Dylan added a third finger, stretching Connor's rim every time he pulled back.

Dylan worked him up to four fingers quickly, Connor moaning and squirming, as much as he could, hitching his hips down onto the feeling of being stretched, of his hole clenching and releasing around Dylan's fingers. He was so hard, but Dylan wasn't even touching his dick, just rubbing his hand against Connor's stomach mindlessly. Fuck, it was so good, Connor couldn't clear his head even for a second, Dylan pushing in and out of him, slowing for a second to play with his rim, and then pushing deep, filling him up.

He realised he was gasping wildly, great sucking breaths, and pushing his hips as much as he could down onto Dylan's hand, taking his fingers deep.

“Dylan, Dylan, please,” he said, his fingers scrambling at the edge of the sofa. “Please,” he said again, and Dylan took pity on him and put his hand on Connors dick, rubbing the head against the curve of Connor's belly and pushing his fingers in deep in his hole. Connor wailed, the feeling coming over him nearly painfully, his hole clenching tightly around Dylan's fingers and his dick jerking and spurting come up and across his stomach.

“Ah, ah,” Connor was saying, each sound involuntary, shaking a little. He clenched down when Dylan pulled his fingers out, and Dylan made a sound like he'd been punched.

“Fuck, Connor, you're so hot like this,” he said, and didn't even get off the floor to jerk himself off, just on his knees next to the sofa pulling hard and fast on his dick. When he came, he rose onto his knees so he could come over Connor's belly, it landing warm and wet over Connor's own drying come.

Connor had to lie on the sofa for a while to catch his breath, not even bothering to close his legs. There wasn't enough space for Dylan to cuddle him, but he sat near Connor's head, and pet his hair, and kissed him, until Connor felt more like himself. Later, Dylan fed him more food, and then they curled up in bed together, watching stupid youtube compilation videos until Connor fell asleep.

The next few days were like that a lot, except Connor kept getting bigger and bigger until the end of the week, when he was finally too big to get out of bed comfortably, and he had to whine and beg until Dylan arranged the pillows so Dylan could straddle Connor's chest and carefully fuck his mouth. After he came, he cuddled up next to Connor and lay his head on Connor’s shoulder, running a hand over his belly.

“Today?” he said, looking up. Connor nodded. Dylan had been right at the beginning of the week, he was an old pro at this now.

“Yeah, later today I think,” he said, and twined his fingers with Dylan’s. He didn’t enjoy incubating, per se, but he always got a little regretful at the end. He liked sex with Dylan all the time, and it was nice to go back to his own normal body, and get free of the hormonal haze, but this week at the beginning of the off-season was always just theirs, when all they did was eat and fuck and sleep. He’d miss it, kind of.

“You got big this year,” Dylan said, and Connor shrugged.

“Yeah. Hopefully not next year,” he said, and then looked down at Dylan’s face. “Sorry, I know you like it.”

Dylan flushed bright red, and tucked his face into the join of Connor’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, muffled. Connor laughed, and then stopped abruptly when it jostled the eggs inside him. Dylan’s shoulder’s moved as he laughed, and Connor put his arm around him for a second, just listening to his muffled laugh.

“Go get me a protein shake asshole,” he said, after a while, and Dylan went, just because he’d asked. He brought back a protein shake, and a water bottle, and Connor’s ipad, so they could watch highlights. It usually took Connor a couple of days to get over not wanting to watch hockey, and eventually they’d run out of sports they could both agree on, so they were watching the Pens play the Flyers.

Around lunchtime, the eggs started to shift, a sure warning that something was coming. Connor put his hand on his stomach, just breathing slowly for a second, letting the feeling pass. It would only get more intense. Dylan paused the game they were watching.

“Now?” he said, looking up at Connor.

The eggs moved again, definitely downward this time, and Connor breathed deeply through his nose and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, when he got his breath back. “Yeah, soon.”

“Okay,” Dylan said, setting the ipad on the bedside table, and then rolling off the bed. “Let’s get you in the tub.”

They’d ruined a bunch of sheets before they’d figured out the tub was the best place for it. Connor groaned. Nothing hurt yet, but he could already feel his body straining at the eggs moved and shifted.

“C’mon Davo,” Dylan said, and Connor scooted to the edge of the bed, and then used Dylan’s shoulder to stand. He wobbled a little, unsteady on his feet, and Dylan put an arm around him. “That’s it buddy, okay, here we go,” Dylan said, just nonsense comforting words, as they walked from the bed, into Connor’s bathroom. He’d bought this condo partially because of the huge tub.

Getting in the tub was a bit of a production, especially because one of the eggs slipped insistently downward and Connor had to stop halfway through and cling to Dylan, breathing heavily, but eventually he lay down, his legs braced on either side of the tub. Dylan put a towel under his head, and then ran his fingers through Connor’s hair.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Dylan said comfortingly, and Connor nodded along, letting Dylan pet his hair.

“Fuck,” Connor said, just once, biting it out. It was gonna happen soon. “Oh, fuck.”

One of the eggs was coming now, eased by the slick Connor stayed full with all week, but still so big inside him. The eggs had spent the week growing, and Connor could feel every inch of it as it moved through him. He groped for Dylan’s hand, and squeezed it tightly. It wasn’t painful, but an intense feeling that seemed to ripple through his whole body, so much feeling that he could only writhe and groan.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Dyl, oh fuck,” he couldn’t stop repeating the words, as the egg pressed against his prostate. One of his legs was shaking, and his dick kept kicking, his body reacting beyond his control. The egg stretched him wide as it finally left him, tugging at his rim where he was most sensitive and making him groan. Dylan stroked his hair off his forehead. He was sweaty already.

“There you go, one down,” he said, and Connor groaned wordlessly. The rounded edge of the next egg was already pressing at his prostate, not giving him any time to rest.

Each egg was so intense. He came, shaking, spurting come onto his stomach, as the third egg stretched his rim wide, and then he lost track, he couldn’t count as they came in waves, making him moan and shake, and then come again, weakly. Dylan stroked his hair, and sat with him the whole time, Connor didn’t know for how long, until he was finally empty. His face was wet with tears, he didn’t remember having started crying, but he was gasping for each breath. He felt so empty, so suddenly bereft.

“Dylan,” he said, on a big sobbing breath, and Dylan put a hand until his shoulders to help him stand, the inside of his thighs coated with slick.

“I know baby, c’mon,” Dylan said, helping Connor stumble the few steps out of the bathroom and back to bed. Connor didn’t have any coordination, he didn’t care. He fell face-first into bed, and spread his legs. He was so empty.

“Dylan, please,” he said, still crying a little. It was all so much, and he wanted Dylan close, he wanted Dylan inside him.

“I’ve got you,” Dylan said, not bothering to finger him, just crawling on top of him, blanketing Connor with his body, and then pushing his dick into Connor’s loose, twitching hole. He sighed. It didn’t fill him up like the eggs, but it meant he didn’t feel empty any more

“Fuck, you’re so loose,” Dylan said roughly, his hips slapping against Connor’s ass. Connor was so limp each thrust moved his body forward on the bed slightly. Dylan was right. He was so loose, he couldn’t even tighten up around Dylan’s dick, his whole body entirely relaxed. Dylan grunted, and then Connor felt the warm, wet rush of Dylan coming inside him.

Dylan collapsed on top of him, and Connor wriggled happily underneath him, reveling in the feeling of his sweaty body close to him. He felt good, warm and well-fucked and he had Dylan.

 


End file.
